The Weekly Sift

It’s no longer possible to explain the justices’ behavior
without accounting for partisan politics and corruption.

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Hacks? Back in 2021 at the University of Louisville, Justice Amy Comey Barrett addressed criticism of the Court she had joined less than a year before:

“My goal today is to convince you that this court is not comprised of a bunch of partisan hacks,” the conservative Barrett said, according to the Louisville Courier Journal. She said the high court is defined by “judicial philosophies” instead of personal political views. “Judicial philosophies are not the same as political parties,” Barrett said.

Most of the legal experts who have appeared on MSNBC or CNN since then have more-or-less given that view the benefit of the doubt. Sure, some things have been hard to explain. In particular, the Court’s “originalist” rulings — “originalism” being one of the philosophies Barrett cited — have been suspiciously selective about the “history” that informed their majority opinions, and overall the originalist justices have shown little interest in history as it is taught by professional historians. On its shadow docket, the Court was far more responsive to the Trump administration’s requests to move quickly than it has been to the Biden administration. And then there’s Clarence Thomas, who takes six-figure gifts from billionaire “friends” he had never met before he ascended to the Court.

But hackery? No. Surely not. This is the Supreme Court we’re talking about.

These talking-head legal experts are almost entirely institutionalists: ex-prosecutors, retired judges, law professors, and even one ex-Acting-Solicitor-General. They’re deeply invested in the idea that the legal system works.

They’ve had a tough week.

Thursday, the Court heard oral arguments on Donald Trump’s claim that he has “absolute immunity” for anything he did as president. That claim is holding up his federal prosecution in the January 6 case.

Partisan delay. It’s already been clear that the Court has been shading the process in Trump’s favor. The original purpose of this immunity claim was to delay Trump’s trial past the election, so that he can order the Justice Department to dismiss the case if he becomes president again. Both the district court and the appellate court found no legal merit in “absolute immunity” — or in any kind of immunity that would cover this case — and the Supreme Court didn’t have to hear the appeal at all.

But instead, the Court has dragged its feet. Back in December, Jack Smith asked the Court to hear the appeal immediately, skipping the appeals court, so that Trump’s trial could get under way. They refused, waited for the appellate ruling, and then spent weeks deciding whether to review that ruling. When they finally did decide to hear the case, they scheduled oral arguments on the last day of the term for hearing arguments, burning as much time as possible.

But still, the institutionalist commentators told us, while the conservative majority might manipulate the calendar in a partisan fashion, it wouldn’t distort the law to favor Trump. Surely it would find, as both lower courts did, that there was no legal merit in this claim.

After Thursday’s hearing, though, that outcome is seriously in doubt. The conservative justices gave Trump’s attorney a far more sympathetic hearing than he deserved.

Breaking faith. Slate’s Dahlia Lithwick expressed a disillusionment I heard from many professional commentators:

As a blinkered institutionalist, I’m getting blowback along the lines of: “I told you so. They’re a bunch of partisan hacks.” I truly believed that at least seven members of the court would take the potential failure of democracy as a proposition seriously enough that the partisan valence of this case went away. That didn’t happen.

Former Assistant US Attorney Andrew Weissmann said, “Big picture: I’m in a very, very depressed mode.” And his podcasting cohost Mary McCord (a former Assistant Attorney General) replied “It’s been a rough several weeks of listening to Supreme Court arguments.”

Weissmann characterized the justices’ discussion of presidential immunity as “almost like a policy debate in Congress”. (It’s worth listening to this part, because you can hear the heartbreak in his voice.)

What was missing from that [discussion] was the text of the Constitution, the intent of the Framers, the history of the United States. I mean, it so belied the originalism/textualism credo of the so-called conservative justices. … And then, even within that policy debate, what was missing from the conservative justices was any record support, in terms of 200 years of history. …

It was remarkable to me the antipathy towards the actual criminal justice system that you were hearing from Alito and Gorsuch. Which was Alito saying, “You know, you can indict a ham sandwich.” I mean, this is our criminal justice system! … It was remarkable to me that you had people sitting in the Supreme Court denigrating the entire infrastructure of and edifice of our criminal justice system that they are a huge part of creating.

Slate’s Mark Joseph Stern summarized this same discussion with equal amazement and horror:

Alito had [Michael] Dreeben [representing the special prosecutor’s office] walk through the layers that protect a president from a frivolous or vindictive prosecution. Then he dismissed each one out of hand. So Dreeben said: First, you need a prosecutor who’s willing to bring charges; then you need a grand jury to indict; then there’s a criminal proceeding in open court where a jury of his peers decides whether he’s been proved guilty. And Alito just laughs it off as though it’s a big joke. Because we all know Justice Department attorneys are hacks who’ll do whatever they want, right? And a grand jury will indict a ham sandwich—nobody believes a grand jury will do anything worthwhile. And then, oh, sure a jury of his peers, like that’s going to do anything. [1]

This is the justice who is, by far, the most friendly to prosecutors and hostile to criminal defendants in case after case. Who could not for the life of him find a violation of the right to trial by jury or due process. But when the defendant is Trump, he suddenly thinks this entire system of criminal prosecution is such a bad joke that the Supreme Court has to step in and essentially quash this prosecution, because we can’t trust the system to work. The system that is incarcerating so many other people whose convictions Sam Alito just rubber-stamps.

And Lithwick replied:

I felt like that was the turn for me—it was Alito winking to Dreeben, saying, in short, “We both worked in the Justice Department; we know what a racket that crap is.” This was another one of those moments when I thought, sorry: Did one of the justices of the United States Supreme Court just imply that everything that happens at the Justice Department is hackery and rigged prosecutions? …

For his part, bribe-taking Clarence Thomas said little, but his very presence in the room said much: His wife Ginny traded texts with Mark Meadows in the lead-up to January 6. She probably won’t be called as a witness, but she could be. Under any sane system of ethics, he should have recused himself from this case.

But this is Clarence Thomas. He has no ethics. And this is the Supreme Court, where ethical standards have no enforcement mechanism. So there he sat. He will presumably vote on this case and perhaps even write a self-serving opinion.

Restraint? Another longstanding principle of conservative jurisprudence is judicial restraint: A court should decide the case brought before it, and not make wide-ranging rulings that are not needed to decide that case.

But Thursday, the conservative justices could not be bothered to discuss the actual case — Trump’s attempt to stay in office despite losing the 2020 election. Kavanaugh said as much: “I’m not as concerned about the here and now, I’m more concerned about the future.” Gorsuch echoed: “I’m not concerned about this case, but I am concerned about future uses of the criminal law to target political opponents based on accusations about their motives.” And Alito added: “I want to talk about this in the abstract.”

These justices seemed to take for granted that this case is precisely the kind of vindictive prosecution Trump’s lawyers warned about, and to discount entirely that a president might abuse his power to stay in office illegally, as a grand jury has indicted Trump for doing. These prior assumptions are entirely political assessments of the situation. They cited no facts of the case that would point in this direction, and no legal problems with the indictment.

What happens next? What seems likely to come out of these arguments is a ruling — probably on the very last day of the term in June, continuing to burn as much time as possible — that attempts to define a doctrine that is not really needed in this case, and has not been needed in the two centuries of American history so far: drawing a line between presidential acts that are immune from subsequent prosecution and those that are not. Having drawn this line, the Court can remand the case to Judge Chutkan with instructions to apply the new doctrine. Her ruling, whatever it is, can then be appealed back up the ladder, pushing the trial well past the election.

Fly free, Mr. Trump!

Jay Kuo, however, finds hope in an ironic place: Amy Coney Barrett. Barrett, Kuo reports, actually seemed to be paying attention to the case at hand, and might be looking for a way for the legal system to do its job, rather than grind its gears until the case is moot. So perhaps it will fall to her to fashion a way around the partisan hacks whose existence she denied in 2021.

As I remarked in my piece yesterday, so much of our future, and indeed even the plight of the world, has depended on just one or a few traditional conservatives still managing to do the right, principled thing. It might happen again here, who knows?

Barrett was interested in drawing a line between a president’s private acts and his officials acts.

Okay. So, in the Special Counsel’s brief, on pages 46 and 47, he urges us, even if we assume that there’s—even if we were to decide or assume that there was some sort of immunity for official acts, that there was sufficient private acts in the indictment for the trial to go, for the case to go back and the trial to begin immediately.

Barrett outlined scenarios that included much of Trump’s indicted conduct, such as the conspiracy to present false electors to Congress. Kuo speculates that Barrett might convince Roberts and the three liberal justices to support a majority opinion along these lines.

Another possible way forward consists of Judge Chutkan taking the remand and getting creative with it. In deciding which of Trump’s acts might fit the Court’s brand-new definition of immunity, she might have to hold an evidentiary hearing — not a trial — in which much of the prosecution’s case could be presented. It would not result in a jury verdict, but at least testimony from witnesses like Mike Pence and Mark Meadows could get onto the record.

This is decidedly a second-best (or third- or fourth-best) result. In a nation with an uncorrupted Court, a full trial would be completed and a jury verdict reached before the election. But we don’t live in such a nation. At least until Democrats can win enough elections to rebalance the Court — hopefully naming honest jurists with liberal philosophies rather than just more partisan hacks who lean left rather than right — we’re stuck with the corrupt Court we have.

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[1] It’s worth pointing out that juries were the difference between the legitimate performance of Special Counsel Robert Mueller and the politically motivated Barr-Trump special counselship of John Durham. Mueller obtained convictions of a number of Trump associates like Paul Manafort and Roger Stone. But Durham’s drawn-out expensive investigation resulted in only two jury verdicts, both unanimous acquittals.

Juries are in fact what Trump is afraid of in his current cases. If his indictments were indeed the political witch hunts he claims, he should want a jury to expose this fraud to the voters. Instead, he seeks every delay possible, so that if a jury rules at all, it will come to late to inform the electorate.